I shoot him a tearful smile. “Me too.” I don’t tell him that this has been the best week of my life, even better than my honeymoon in Paris. No one needs to know that but me.
Shortly thereafter, we explore the strangest fun house I’ve ever seen — it looks like an old nuclear plant, but it’s so much fun. “You make me feel like a kid,” I tell him.
“It’s not me.” He smirks. “It’s this place.”
Then we hop on the oldest manually operated roller coaster in the world — the guy operating it wears a funny hat. It’s kind of lame as far as coasters go, but it’s still fun.
We walk through the beautiful gardens, and I snap a few pictures of the Chinese temple and the boats floating in the pond. Every single detail of this place is exquisite. There are so many little restaurants and things to see. We walk out to check out the whimsical pirate ship restaurant, but decide not to eat there because we’re both in the mood for Asian.
We don’t explore too many wild rides because I tend to get nauseous, but Eli convinces me to try the chair swing ride. “It’s a must,” he says. My heart is beating hard as we set off, and he waves at me as we slowly lift up into the air. Turns out he was right. It’s so much fun, up high. The wind blows in my face, and the view of the park is awe-inspiring. I feel like I’m flying.
We eat at Wagamama, which I’ve never been to before, and I love it. We both order ramen bowls and fresh juices, and stuff our faces.
We venture back into the park, and Eli convinces me to go on the merry-go-round. “It’s for kids,” I argue, but he won’t hear any of it. The colorful whimsical animals beckon me, and I finally concede. He sits on one of the benches and convinces me to climb up on a giraffe. I feel utterly ridiculous, but I realize that I’ve never smiled or laughed so much in a single day. It’s bittersweet — it makes me happy, and it saddens me as well.
When darkness falls, the place becomes even more magical. The lights twinkle and dance, and the rides and sights become even more fairy tale-like. We spend the rest of the evening strolling through the park, not missing a single detail. We snap a lot of selfies, and we try out a few more games but have no luck. Eli snaps a few pictures of me in front of the elephant heads. I cuddle close to the cute red elephant and smile for the camera. And likewise, I snap a few shots of him standing next to the giraffe heads.
I buy a souvenir coffee cup — it has a picture of the hot balloons Ferris wheel ride — yet another reminder of him. It might just become my favorite mug. Every time I drink from it, I’ll remember us sitting in one of those baskets, kissing. I’ll remember the way it felt to be in his arms, to feel his lips on mine.
“What do you want to do when we get home?” he asks with a mischievous grin. We’re walking back, and it’s dark. The city is buzzing, and I’m still full of energy. Although it’s getting late, I know I won’t be tired for a while.
“You’ve had a long day. I think you should go right to bed,” he teases. “I can tuck you in.”
“Well, yeah, I could do that, or we…” I feel a blush creep up along my cheeks. “Or we could fuck like bunnies.”
He stops in his tracks. “Uh…” he’s speechless and a small laugh escapes him. I think I’ve shocked him.
I bite my lip. “What do you think?”
“Is that what we’re doing?” he asks. “Fucking?”
I swallow hard.No, it’s not.
We’re not fucking. We’re making love. I’m pretty sure we’re in love. I’m drowning in every emotion, and I feel like he is too. We’re definitely doing more than fucking.
“It’s all we can do, Eli,” I say casually. “You know that. That was the arrangement. That’s what I promised John. One week.”
He’s quiet, and I eagerly anticipate his next words.
“One week,” he finally manages. “One week is not enough.”
“I know.”
“It might be easy for you to turn off your feelings,” he says, “and tell yourself we’re just fucking, but it feels like a lot more to me—”
“Eli,” I snap. “Don’t do this. We’re fucking, all right?! Just deal with it!”
A quick flash of anger travels across his face — it’s so quick, I almost miss it. We keep walking, but his steps are hurried, his stride long. He’s mad at me, and I feel horrible. I hope he doesn’t let this ruin the rest of our time together. He knew this all along — this isnotnews.
Just sex. One week.
He knew that. I don’t know why he’s acting like this is a sudden surprise, as if I’d promised him something more. I never did.
My stomach drops when he grabs my arms and swiftly drags me in a dark corner between two old buildings. It’s dark and there’s no one else around. “What are you doing?” I ask. “You scared the shit out of me.” My heart is pounding. He leads me to a secluded spot around a corner.
He presses me softly against the cold brick wall, and cups my face in his hands. I’m still holding my giant chocolate bar against my chest, and my pulse is racing.
His eyes are dark, and his breath is ragged. He smells like candy. He doesn’t say a word for the longest time, and with every passing second, my heart beats a little faster. “I thought we could fuck,” he deadpans. “It’s what we do, right?”
